New Beginning
by crbigpapi
Summary: All the characters and such are owned by 343 Studios. Basically, a story that takes place right after Halo 4, two months after the events of Requiem. Please review so I know how I'm doing with my chapters :)!
1. Chapter 1

The Chief slowly sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Judging by the quiet and the soft glow of the digital clock, he was aboard the UNSC Infinity. He was covered in a cold sweat, despite the blanket thrown over his legs. His brain wandered back to the dream he had been having. 'I'm not coming with you..' He shook his head to clear his mind, throwing a standard t-shirt on in the process. About 6'10 and almost 320 pounds, he was all muscle, and the olive tee fit his form rather nicely.

He shuffled for his door, which was opposite of his bed. The bed itself was fairly small, being just long enough for the Chief to lay properly. Grey, rumpled sheets were spread on the top, as well as a solitary, thin pillow. The bed was held up by steel supports which ran to the floor, where they were bolted down in case of an attack. On the wall next to his bed was a closet. A white dress shirt poked out, revealing some of the many medals adorning the chest area. Next to the shirts, on the door, was a small mirror. On the wall opposite of the closet was a small desk. Report upon report lay stacked, read and memorized. Among them was the unfinished report of the events of Requiem.

Making for the door, he walked through as it slid automatically open. The silver hallways were void of any crewman. 'Probably all in bed,' the Chief thought, letting hid feet take him. Two months ago, after the events on Requiem, he had started having trouble falling asleep. Now, he barely even slept more than a few hours a night. The few hours he did catch offered him no respite, as he had the same reoccurring dream each night. The Didact's ship, the Composer, the nuke... her. It would all come flooding back to him, like a pack of wolves closing in on their pray. Sooner or later , amidst his wandering, he found

himself in the firing range. "Nothing like some good old shooting to clear my mind," he said quietly.

The firing range was huge, extending over 500 feet in any direction. The motion activated lights hung from the ceiling, some flooding the room with a cold light as the Chief approached. About a sixth of the way into the range were the firing lanes. Each lane was wide enough to fit a Spartan, and had a small shelf inside to hold excess ammunition. Thin metal walls separated each lane. Opposite of the lanes, on the side of the door, lay many rows of lockers. They extended all the way down the room, save for a few times when they were interrupted by shelves holding ammo.

Opening one of the various weapon cabinets, he pulled out a standard 12.7 mm magnum. Admiring its shine, he slid a clip into place, flipped the safety, and set his finger next to the trigger. In a series of whooshes the targets flew up, and the Chiefs training took in. Aiming for the nearest one, he quickly aligned his sights with the target, and scored a headshot. Fifteen more targets were shoved down, each with a bullet hole in its 'head'. Walking back to the cabinet, he placed the magnum away. As he walked back in what he thought was the direction of his room. he thought about the present.

After being transported back to the Infinity, he had been awarded the usual medals and honors. Day after day had passed. spent in orbit above the Earth. The Chief had no orders, other than rest. Yet even more time had passed, and John began to think that he would never get orders. Finally, with the ship's crew and supplies restocked they had set out towards another Forerunner construct on the edge of their galaxy. Currently, they were in the silent folds of slip space, with and E.T.A of about twenty seven hours.

Eventually, after refreshing his mind from the demons of sleep, he found his way back to his room. Collapsing upon his bed, he looked up at the clock. A soft click announced the arrival of the new hour. With dawn just a few hours away, John closed his eyes. As he drifted, he hoped for a night of peace, but to no avail.

Many hours later, the Spartan awoke with wild eyes. Slipping off of his bed into a standing position, he leaned against the wall. After his mind calmed some, he changed tees before making his way out of his room. He was greeted by a loud scream emanating from the end of the hall. The Chief instinctively took cover, looking for the problem. A marine came tumbling past him, tears in her eyes.  
"Is there a problem?" The Chief asked, raising an eyebrow at the marine. She jumped and turned around.

She had a rounded face, but her chin was slightly pointed. A thin, short, and small nose sat below her eyes. With deep green eyes, they were definitely the most striking aspect of her. Her long black hair hung down her back, curling at the bottom. John caught a flash of her ears as she turned, and they seemed to match the rest of her. Small and concealed. She wore standard grey sweatpants, but her shirt told a whole nother story. The letters ODST were printed across the chest.

"Wha-? Oh, no.." she said, her cheeks flushing a light red. She turned and continued on her way. The Chief berated himself. He was too paranoid. 'If the ship was under attack, surely I would've been warned by Co-.' He stopped short, and shoved the thought down, suppressing his emotions like he had been taught. No sooner had he finished thinking when the ship jolted, shoving him sideways. He lost his balance and was flung to the floor, smashing his head. Standing up, confused, the intercom suddenly cracked to life. "All hands, report to battle stations, this is not a drill!" The voice rang out clear and sharp, and suddenly the halls were alive with crewman and marines alike, rushing for their weapons and stations. The intercom came to life again, requesting the Chiefs presence on the bridge. 'Just like old times,' he thought, turning on his heels.

Heading for the elevator that would take him to the bridge, he ran through the halls. Another rumble shook through the halls, but this time he was prepared, and he braced himself against the wall. He recognized them, from long ago. 'Their boarding the ship," he thought quietly, and redoubled his efforts to reach the bridge. Turning the corner to the elevator, he nearly ran face first into an elite. 

The Chief reacted quickly. Without his armor, that storm rifle would tear him to pieces. Bounding forward, the Spartan drove his fist into the aliens stomach, winding him. His shields flickered, and the Chief kicked him, breaking them. The elite doubled over, but still caught Johns arm in mid punch. Twisting, he pushed the human against the wall, reaching for his plasma pistol. Noticing this act, the Chief grabbed the hand, twisting it about 180 degrees. He heard a bone crack, and the elite roared, but held his grip. Releasing his arm, the Chief brought his hand over, slapping so hard that the Chief actually dislocated his jaw. 

The elite faltered, and this allowed the Chief to grab his head and snap his head. Policing him of his weapons, John entered the elevator. A few minutes later, he was standing aboard the Infinity's bridge, next to Lasky.

The bridge reminded the Chief of the Pillar of Autumn's, only there wasn't a giant window and it was almost twice as large. Stations ran along each side, crewman huddled over all of them. Statistics ran along all of the screens. A red light constantly flashed on the ceiling, giving the room an eerie appearance. In the middle of the room was a table, projecting holograms and information of the ships supplies. And at the end stood the Chief and Lasky. 

"External cameras," he called, and the view screens flickered to life. There was a brief moment of static, but the Chief wished they had stayed that way. Because what they contained drove terror into the hearts of the men.


	2. Infinity?

His MA5D Assault Rifle sputtered, letting lose a hail of bullets. Each found its target, and the armor clad elite fell to the ground, twitching. Sliding the clip out, John dropped it and instinctively loaded another in. Approximately three hours ago, the Infinity had been boarded by The Storm, a rebel group of Covenant. The Chief had been fighting to clear the decks, but the fight was not going well. They were taking heavy casualties, and they had not even started their mission. Along with the hoards boarding the ship, they were also being bombarded by plasma fire from Covenant vessels. He thought back to the view screen. Over fifty covenant ships, in orbit above the Forerunner planet. Jumping out of slip space, they had been surprised to see the Covenant. The Covenant had been equally surprised, as their shields were down when three Mac Cannon slugs tore through their ranks. The ships hulls had shuddered, screeching silently in the vacuum. They literally tore in half, spilling bodies into the endless black while explosions blossomed throughout the hull. As quick as lightning, the Spartan had ran for the armor docks, grabbed a weapon, and made for the decks, joining the fight.

Stepping over the body, The Chief switched to his magnum. Taking aim, it kicked in his hand twice, and two grunts collapsed, their fluorescent blood splattering the walls. Opening a door, John was led into yet another grey hallway, filled with Covenant and marines alike. A plasma grenade, nicknamed "stickies," sizzled pass. It founds its target, and the unfortunate marine was torn apart in a brilliant flash of blue light. Turning left, the Chief fired the magnum, dropping the grunt who had thrown it. Two elites stepped over their companions dead body, raising their Carbines as they did so. Two bolts of energy struck the Chief, and his shields dropped about 30%. Worried, he dove left, landing behind a large metal crate. Holstering his magnum, he checked the ammunition on his AR. Fifteen rounds sat in the clip, and John had no more spares. Looking to his left, he eyed the body of a dead grunt, and the plasma grenade at his foot.

Wasting no time, the Chief sprinted forward, leaning down and catching the grenade in his hand. Priming it, he twisted his body, throwing the explosive. It latched onto one of the elites, who roared and started clawing at the device. Realizing his friend was already dead, the other alien turned, trying to escape the blast. Another flash filled the Chiefs visor, causing him to squint. No elites were left. After mopping up some excess jackals, the Spartans comms cracked to life.

"Chief, Lasky here. The fights not going well. I'm gonna try and land the Infinity inside the planet. I can't risk you though. Get to the escape pods."  
"Sir, with all due resp-"  
"That's an order," Lasky cut him off, severing the channel.

The Chief furrowed his brow, annoyed. He knew, as well as everyone else, that he was the best soldier aboard. Still, orders were orders, and the Chief was not one to break them. Turning around, he made his way for the maintenance staircase. Small and narrow, it extended the entire length of the Infinity. The only thing stopping the crewman from falling to and untimely death was a rickety railing. Carefully sticking to the wall, the Chief climbed. Reaching his intended destination, he peeked out of the maintenance hatch. A thunderous stomp jarred the Chief, and a large foot stepped down, inches away from his face. Covered in blue metal, it could only belong to one thing. 'Hunters,' the Chief cursed to himself. Each pair were bond brothers, so there had to be at least one other. Waiting, the hulking mass of worms eventually passed, stomping away from the hidden Spartan. John carefully crept out, and was greeted by a hideous sight. The hallways had obviously been the sight of a large battle. Large plasma burns and bullet impacts lined the wall. The floor was practically a puddle of blood, two inches thick. Marines and Spartans alike lay on the floor, burnt flesh still smoking. The Covenant forces had suffered a similar fate, with limbs torn off and bodies filled with holes. 

Wading through the blood, the Chief searched the Marines for ammo. Finding a few spare clips of ammo for his rifle, he reloaded. Standing up, he realized he was almost to the pods. Relaxing he started forward. He had taken three steps when an ear shattering roar emanated from behind him. Turning, his face paled. The hunter stood behind him, already swinging his heavy metal shield. Too late to dodge, the shield struck the Spartans shields. His shields held for an instant, then broke. He was flung to the side like a ragdoll, smashing into the wall. His vision blurred for a second, and he wearily stood, tasting blood. 

The beast roared , raising his shield once again. Prepared, John sidestepped the swing, bringing his rifle up and firing blatantly. The bullets pinged against the hunters armor, only a few shedding blood. Turning for a third strike, the alien brought his shield above his head, slamming it down behind him. Raising it, the hunter grunted in surprise when there wasn't a dead Spartan underneath. A moment too late, it realized what had happened. An explosion rocked the hallway, and the beast imploded, sending writhing worms everywhere. 

Dropping the pin of the frag grenade, the Chief gritted his teeth. Poking his ribs, he analyzed how bad his injuries were. He reasoned that he had broken at least four ribs. Shoving the pain down as he had learned in his extensive training, he continued towards his objective. Despite the fact that the entire ship was under attack, he only found a trio of grunts, which he quickly dropped. Finally, he entered an escape pod, sliding into the seat. It was a small craft, bearing no weapons. The inside was small and cramped, with eight seats on each side. Racks hung over head to carry gear and weapons. The front of the pod was mostly tempered glass, allowing the pilot to search for a good landing spot. Consoles sat in front of the seat, each button and lever serving its own purpose. 

Hitting the launch button, the doors hissed shut behind him. A countdown appeared on one of the console, flashing bright red. At this John strapped himself in. The safety straps barely fit over his armor, but they held him in place. As the countdown reached its end, the pod ejected from the infinity, its aft boosters pushing the pod away from the ship. It slowly spun for a moment, allowing the Chief to see the battle.

Roughly thirty-five Covenant ships were still operational, all of them firing on the Infinity. Several areas of her outer plating had fused together or was gone all together, revealing the complicated honeycomb of hallways. The ships three Mac guns were still operational, sending slug after slug towards the ships. Longswords and Seraphs sped by, each in its own dogfight. Then, the fire stopped. Confused, the Chief looked around, wondering why no plasma bolts were being fired. His face whitened as he realized what the alien bastards were planning. 'No... A unified firing of the ships would tear the Infinity apart!' Helpless, he watched as the ships simultaneously charged their guns. Catching on, the Infinity's nose grew blue. The Chief recognized this as the opening of a slip space portal.

Before it was open, the Covenant fired. Thirty-five bolts of pure, super heated plasma lanced through space, striking the UNSC Infinity at the same time. Melting through the outer armor, the bolts continued through, not dissipating.

And a mini sun appeared.

The Chiefs visor polarized, darkening as far as it could go, and even then he had to squeeze his eyes shut. Minutes later, he finally opened his eyes. His pod was facing away from the scene, so he had no way of seeing what had happened. Finally, the pod rotated again. Fearing the worst, The Chief was still caught off guard. Every Covenant ship was gone. Destroyed. But... The Infinity didn't exist. Disintegrated. Gone. Everyone onboard, dead. Not a single ship within a few hundred feet remained. This was the only time The Chief was fearful. And that was before the pod gathered speed, hurtling towards the planet's surface.


	3. Chapter 3

**Okay, first of all, I don't know how to do authors notes so I'm just gonna bold it up at the beginning of the story xD. Second of all, if this chapter is a bit different or not as good, I'm sorry. I feel like I'm not up to par right now :(. Like always, I'd like some reviews so I can know what I should fix and all that. Cheers!**

Chapter 3- Untitled

The Chiefs pod rocketed towards the surface, wind tearing at the hull. Friction increased, causing the nose to grow cherry red. Through the windows, John was reassured, though only slightly. He was rapidly approaching an ocean, providing a safe landing spot. Looking around, he saw a small island in the distance, a thankful green among the endless blue. Pods of air shoving the Chief around and the water rapidly approaching, he checked that he was properly strapped in. Coming lower and lower, the Chief braced himself.

The tip of the pod touched the water, the momentum shoving it upwards. The nose fell, yet again falling into the water and being shoved upwards. The next time, most of the pod hit the water. What happened next resembled a stone being skipped in a pond. Except the stone held humanity's greatest soldier. And the stone was a thin metal pod.  
Finally, after minutes of 'skipping', the Chief slowed down. A minor headache began to form in the back of his mind as the Spartan unbuckeled himself. Standing shakely, he looked around, beginning to asses the situation.

Random gear lay all over the floor, most of it smashed beyond recognition and use. The only thing still strapped in was a solitary box of ammo for a Battle Rifle. Picking it up, he stuffed it into a supply pack. Stepping over what looked like the remains of a med-kit, he made his way towards the release hatch. A small light blinked green, indicating that it was safe to open. That meant the planet had a safe atmosphere. It seems Sierra 117's luck still held strong. Pulling the lever sidewayy and pushing, the door hissed open. About five inches below the Chief was clear, blue water. The depth was hard to tell, but the Chief reasoned a few hundred feet. Looking behind him, he gave one last look at the wrecked interior. Then, steeling his muscles, he jumped, beginning for a mysterious island, with no supplies.

Sitting with his legs in front of him, John sat, staring at the sun as it set. He had just reached the island, which, even with his genetic enhancements, had proved to be a menacing challenge. The golden-orange rays filled the rapidly darkening sky, turning clouds pink and yellow. A dew birds flew leisurely, enjoying the warmth of the star. Finally, the sun sank below the horizon, leaving the worlds two moons to rise. Sighing, the Chief stood. He needed shelter, a place to sleep. His armor would protect him from the cold, but he still didn't like the prospect of sleeping out in the open, where anything could sneak up on him.

Standing and turning, he headed into the treeline. The sand beneath his feet gradually turned to dirt, then grass, long blue flowers growing in clumps. Trees, tall and slim stood close together, mysterious fruit hanging of the tops. They reminded him of pictures he had seen, depicting palm trees in a place on Earth that had once been called California. Of course, its name had changed after the Second American Civil War. Strange birds sat, perched on the tops of the trees, their wild and unfamiliar calls making the hair on the back of Johns neck stand. 

Finally, he stumbled upon what appeared to be an old road, covered with overgrown foliage. The familiar silver that was associated with anything Forerunner could just be made out. Taking a closer look, he saw that it led further into the trees. Walking along this for about ten minutes, it ended outside of a tunnel entrance. Leading down into the ground, it must've been tall enough for a UNSC Elephant to pass through, and two side by side. Activating his visors night vision, he could just make out a turn at the very end. 

Stepping into it, his metal boot clicked against the ground, a ringing echo resounding, slowly fading. Ignoring the sound and continuing forward, the Chief made his way to the bottom. Along the walls ran bright blue lines, electricity crackling, contained by a glass pane. Along the top, John could just see symbols, intricately woven into the walls.

Finally reaching the tunnels bottom, the Chief followed it as it turned left. This tunnel was nearly identical to the other, but it led out into a giant room, the ceiling high and arched. Roughly a square, it was devoid of people and objects in general, save for a console in the back corner; at the Chiefs insistent prodding, it did nothing. Sitting down next to it, he leaned against the wall. Closing his eyes, he though to himself, 'An hour, maybe two...'Drifting off, his breathing leveled, and soon he was sleeping._  
_

_"Cortana.." The Chief said, raising his hand as she backed away. At a loss for words, he simply gazed as she turned to face him for the last time. Slowly fading away, John was left alone, anguish and grief coursing through his veins. Eight years, a constant companion. Now.. nothing._

Gasping, the Chief's eyes bolted open, revealing the darkness. His heart racing, he sat still, trying to calm himself. His eyes quickly adjusting to the night, he looked around. The room was empty, revealing to the Chief none of it's secrets, just the old console. A metal on metal clank, sharp and loud, rang out, causing the Spartan to turn his head sharply. It had emanated from the tunnel. Now that he focused his attention on it, he could actually make out a faint glow. Half standing, halo crouching, he made for the entrance. Though he was in a full set of MJOLNIR VI armor, he made barely a noise.

Looking into the tunnel, he silently cursed to himself. The glow led up to a single figure, facing the entrance to the outside. The Promethean Knight waved his sword/arm, stomping his foot. A click came from out of view, causing the Knight to point towards the giant chamber. Another click echoed through the room, and a second, smaller knight came around the corner. Walking past both the Knight Commander (At least that's what the Chief thought he was) and the Chief, he tentatively made his way further into the room. The Chief hadn't been noticed, so he decided to tempt fate. Sprinting forward and jumping onto the Knights back, he used the only weapon he had. His combat knife. Grabbing hold of the Knights head, he pulled out the knife, digging it into the creatures neck. The Promethean roared, trying to throw the human off his back. Grabbing on tighter, the Chief pushed on the knife, jumping off. Landing, he barely had time to duck, the creatures sword passing bare inches above his head. Standing and leaving the Knight little time to react, John rushed forward, bringing his head into the aliens chest. Though it didn't pain the Promethean, it staggered him, allowing the Light Rifle to be wrenched from it's hands. Pulling it up to his shoulder, he was about to squeeze the trigger when a pulse grenade exploded to his left.

Dodging right, John put some distance between him and the explosion. Each shot hitting it's mark, the Chiefs shields glance dangerously low causing a warning alarm to beep into his ears. He needed to end this fight now or he wouldn't have to worry about getting off this planet. Rolling into a crouch, he fired off four quick shots, collapsing the Prometheans shields. Squeezing the trigger once more sent three bolts of pure energy straight into the Knight's face. Roaring, it started to disentegrate, orange flakes peeling off of its exterior. A brilliant light shone outwards, and the rest of the creature turned to dust. Preparing to face off the Commander, the Chief steeled himself.

And waited.

And waited.

And what he heard surprised him.

"Holy hell mate! Did you see that things head?!"


	4. Chapter 3 Version 2

**Authors note- Two bad reviews has really done a number in my will to continue the story. So, with a heavy heart, I bring you the revision (complete rewrite) of Chapter 3. Hope you guys like it. Review or message me so I can figure out what chapter version to continue off of.******

**P.s. I understand the Chief is OOC right now. But you have to realize that he's just a human. With emotions. And that's what I'm trying to exploit. And I own replicas of Chiefs dog tags. He's 6'10. Read the books -_-.******

**So without further ado, here ya go. :/****  
**

The Chiefs pod rocketed towards the surface, wind tearing at the hull, Air currents shoved the pod, making him thankful for the safety harness. Gaining speed, Master Chiefs pod grew closer and closer to the endless green sea. Realizing the need to slow down or face certain death, he pulled the chute. As it unfurled, it caught the air, shoving him into the seat. He was slowing down, but not as quick as he needed. Reaching the tree tops, he checked his safety harness. Then the pod hit a pocket of air.

And dropped.

Smashing through a tree trunk, Johns head smashed against the seat, causing his vision to waver for a moment. Offering him no respite, the pod continued through, one impact after the other. Giving up, the Chief's vision narrowed, a black field closing in on him.

Groggily opening his eyes, the Chief tasted copper. His harness was torn, next to useless from the brutal punishment the pod had received. His head ached, pounding to the beat of his heart. Spinning the pilots seat around to face the interior area, he was given a view of utter destruction. The left side of the pod was gone, the metal casing laying fifteen feet below the Chief. Wrecked gear littered the floor, rendering everything next to useless. Not even the med-kit had survived the crash, its lid torn off and its contents thrown out. Shakily standing up, he gathered whatever was left, stuffing it into a supply pouch on his waist.  
Looking out of the hole, the pod had caught itself within a rather dense thicket of trees, leaving the Chief dangling dangerously in the air. Of course, he was a Spartan. Dropping out of the side, he tucked and rolled, letting his armor take the brunt of the fall. Looking up past the trees, he watched the sky, looking for any other survivors. Almost giving up, a pod shot out of the clouds, heading south of the Chief. It disappeared behind the tree line, and explosion echoing, causing birds to scatter. Setting off in its general direction, he began trekking through the forest. The physical activity was easy, allowing Johns mind to wander. At the end of the galaxy, on a mysterious planet, he had no supplies. The Infinity was gone, struck in her core reactors. An effective way of cutting of both supplies and backup. Not only that but-  
"Wart! Wart wart wart!" Said the Elite.  
"God damn it," replied the Chief.  
Charging forward and unsheathing his combat knife, he tackled the elite, throwing them into a tangle of arms and legs. The elites armor was a deep blue, indicating that he was a lower rank, but that didn't fool John into a false sense of security. Struggling to kill the elite, they ended up in a stalemate, the Chief trying to cut the aliens throat, and the other trying to prevent his death. The adrenaline flowing, the knife edged closer and closer towards the elites throat. Fear glazing over his eyes, he thrashed and kicked, trying to free himself. Bringing his foot up, he caught the Chief squarely in between the legs, causing him to relinquish his grip. Taking a hold of the chance, the elite pinned John down, his hands wrapped around his neck. His shields flickered then gave way, allowing the elite to effectively close off the Chiefs oxygen flow.  
Struggling to get away, stars appeared in the Spartans vision. Pounding on the elites shields, they held.. then collapsed. Swinging his fist full force into the aliens chest did nothing to loosen the grip, despite breaking several of his ribs. By now, John was on the verge of blacking out, a hazy red field settling over his eyes. A mixture of denial and destiny coursed through the Chiefs mind as he realized this was probably the end of his path. Throwing his arm back in preparation to strike the Covenant warrior one last time, his hand slid over the knife's handle. Weakly grasping it, 117 plunged it into the elites chest.  
The alien roared in pain, loosening his death grip ever so slightly. Repeating the motion, the Chief pushed up and away, throwing the alien off of him. Air flooded into his burning lungs, bringing life back from deaths cold, black hands.  
Jumping onto the elite, he wrestled the Storm Rifle out of his hands. Placing it firmly under his chin, the elite gave up, looking the Chief in the visor.  
"Wart?"  
"Sure," the Chief said, squeezing the trigger and splattering brain matter on the ground.  
Searching the Shanghelli, he scored a Plasma Pistol and two plasma grenades. Now properly equipped and ready to deal with anything else hostile, the Chief carried on. Remembering how the covenant had already been there when they had dropped out of slip space, he realized that there were probably thousands of troops on the planet.  
Suddenly, static filled his comm channel.  
"This is Sergeant Christian Pono, requesting immediate backup! Were under fire from Covenant forces. If anyone can hear this, please respond!"  
"Sierra 117, making for your current location. How many marines are you with?"  
"A full pod if 16! Hurry, we- agghhhhh!" His scream flooded the chiefs interior speakers, causing him to wince. Doubling his speed, the Chief sprinted through the forest.

Sergeant C. Pono's POV

"Alright, everyone buckle in. This baby ain't gonna give us a smooth time. We gotta break her in first." The Marines nervously chuckled, double checking that their safety harnesses were secure.  
Though he tried to appear confident for his men's sake, inside he was shitting bricks. On the way down, he hadn't seen a solitary other pod take of from the Infinity. The brilliance of the explosion may have blinded him, but the chances of not seeing them now were slim. And the skies stayed clear. They were in a sticky situation alright.  
"Hey, did anybody else see that other escape pod?" This was Corporal Jakob Reeves. A hooked nose and long face, he resembled a hawk. Skinny and tall, he didn't have much going for him.  
"Nah mate, you're crazy. The only thing I saw was my life before my eyes." The other marines agreed, but were quickly shut up as the pod was tossed helplessly in the air.  
"Alright guys, I've spotted a clearing up ahead, I'm gonna see what I can do." Deploying the shoot, the pods momentum rapidly and suddenly decreased, whipping the marines sideways. Chris looked each man and women in the eye, knowing that these could very well be the last moments of his short life.  
"Aww shit guys, lock and load. We've got hinge heads!"  
Grabbing his Designated Marksman Rifle, Christian flipped the safety off, checking that his clip was full. Small arms fire bounced off the outer hull and off the windshield.  
"Okay boys! Here it is!" Not seconds after that, the Pod hit the ground, sending gear stocked overhead crashing to the ground. Screwing his eyes shut, the sergeant gripped the safety harness until his hands hurt. The bouncing came to a stop, and Christian slowly opened his eyes. Gear was unstrapped, strewn about the floor, but that seemed to be the worst of it.  
"Get ready boys! We've got some aliens to kill. Hope they don't mind the smell of green!" An "Oo-rah!" Resounded through the pod, bringing a smile to his face. Un-wrenching the door and throwing it open, artificial sunlight flooded his eyes. Raising the rifle to his shoulder and looking through the scope he aligned the barrel with the head of a charging grunt. The rifle kicked, and the grunts helmet dinged, sending him flying. And so it began.


	5. Base Camp

**Authors Note- If I've sent you two messages about the same thing, I'm sorry. I'm posting this through my friends account lol. If you wanna, reach me through doctorwhowoohoo **

**On another subject, my friend has decided to write a fanfic himself. It's the Inheritance cycle, so check it out and review it if your interested. Untill then, enjoy the chapter :)!**

**And also, I apologize for taking so long to post this chapter. I'm big on procrastinating, and I didn't get around to this one till my friend made me finish! Anyways, review and all that good stuff. I only really have one person who reviews, so c'mon ladies and gents!**

Sgt. Devin Morgan's POV

Unclenching his fists, Devin practically tore his safety harness off. Sliding a clip into hisAssault Rifle, he stood, stretching his long legs. At about 6'3, he was one of the taller members of the group. Dark brown, his long scraggly hair hung loosely, rumpled wildly from the pods descent. Starting at his left eye and stretching to his mouth, a thin, pale scar stretched down his face. His eyes themselves were a cold grey, not giving away his sometimes dry sense of humor. Skinny but well built, he was the favorite of his old squad, being a strict but cool guy.

Stepping out of the pod and into the cool breeze, he was almost at peace. Almost. Giving him no time, a sizzling plasma bolt flew over his head, dissipating into nothingness. The owner of that bolt didn't get to fire again, as Devins Assault Rifle kicked, splattering a grunts guts on the ground. Two more stepped over their companions dead body, seeking revenge for their fallen companion. Lobbing a frag grenade, the Sergeant caught them un-prepared, causing it to rain grunt bits.

He was dimly aware of someone calling for back up, only to hear that same person scream only moments later. Too far gone to notice anything else, the heat of battle had already taken him, adrenaline coursing through his veins. He caught an unlucky elite in the jaw, ripping it and scoring another kill. Suddenly, his comms flared to life.

"Watch it! Their flanking us!"

"Watch it, their flanking us!"

Loud and clear, it whined in the Chiefs helmet. The marines were in a bad position all right. Sprinting at nearly 30 miles per hour, he zoomed through the forest, dodging trees and over grown foliage with ease. Hitting a break of the treeline, he used his momentum, tackling an elite from behind. Slitting his throat and turning the fall into a roll, he came up running, jumping onto the back of yet another elite. Snapping his neck like a twig, the Chief kicked away, falling onto the ground. Raising into a crouch, his Storm Rifle lit up, dropping a jackal from behind. A few turned in surprise, leaving them open to marine fire. Bullets ripped through their bodies, dropping them like flies. The other jackals realized their situation. Quickly forming a square, they shielded each others back. Priming one of his plasma grenades, he tossed it, hitting his goal.

An electric blue light, similar to that of the sea near Hawai filled the air, killing many a jackal and injuring multiple others. The formation collapsed, hell breaking loose among their ranks. The Chief did his part, dropping the Covie bastards with ease. Adrenaline made him seem like a blur to the marines, an unstoppable war machine. His enhanced genetics made everything seem like it was playing out in slow motion. Parrying blows and dodging bullets, he slew the rest of the troops.

A marine approached him, soot covering his face, his FoF tag showing that he was a Sgergeant.

"Nice to see you Master Chief. Some of us thought you didn't make it off that boat. I'm Devin.." he said, holding his hand out to the Chief. The Chief made no move to raise his hand, and after a few, awkward moments, he continued.

".. and this is the squad I find myself in control of."

"How many of you are there," he asked, scanning the battlefield.

"Uh, fourteen. We lost two in this battle." Turning his head, he called for them to form up on his position. Men and women appeared out of thin air, crawling out of holes and slipping out from behind trees. The Chiefs eye caught on one particular person, a woman he recognized from the Infinity's hallway. She gave him a quick nod, reloading her BR85 Battle Rifle.

"Do you have any supplies with you?" John asked. He hadn't carried many MRE's in with him, and he was afraid he'd run out quickly.

"We have ammo and some extra weapons, although we can always get those off of our friends here," he said, nudging a dead elite with his boot.

"We have multiple boxes of MRE's, plus whatever we can scavenge. We don't have any tents but each of us brought a bundle of gear and a sleeping bag. I think we're fine. Now, all we need is a way off this rock. Any ideas?" he asked, looking up into the Chiefs visor. The Spartan nodded, focused more on the plan he was formulating.

"The only thing capable of getting us back to Earth is a Covie ship, as much as I hate to say it."

"Capture a Covenant shi… are you crazy?!" Devin asked, a look of astonishment and shock crossing his face.

Turning on his heels, Sierra 117 stepped into the pod, taking stock of the gear. A glint caught his eye, and he stepped over a ripped dented tin can. The glint was caused by a ring. Not an ornament of decoration though. Thin lines of electricity coursed around the surface, giving it a blue tint. Slipping it on, a shield formed around the Chief, making everything inside the bubble vanish from sight. _'The UNSC has active camouflage?'_ he thought, surprised. He stuffed that into his pouch, stepping out of the pod. Sun shone through the treetops, and some of the marines seemed to be enjoying the soft, warm glow. The wind swayed the grass, ripples clearly visible. The sky was a light blue, not a single cloud in the sky. It was almost like a normal day. Except for the dead bodies littered around the clearing.

"The area is clear, right?" he asked Devin.

"I just sent two scouts out to secure the perimeter."

"Good," he nodded. "Start digging a pit over by the tree line behind us. If we're going to be staying here, we don't want decomposing bodies laying around. I'll move the bigger ones. Also, have a few men start collecting anything usable off of the Covenant troops. Pile it up in the escape pod. We might be here for a while, and I want don't want to be caught with our pants down if we're attacked. I myself would like to see how our neighbors are doing. I'll be back before dark.

Grabbing a M395 Designated Marksmen Rifle and a few boxes of ammo, he headed south, where the aliens had rushed the marines, materializing out of the tree line. Picking his way through close groups of trees and wildlife, he strolled through the forest at an easy 15 miles per hour. A low whine filled the air, causing John to slow down. A banshee patrol flew over the forest, scanning for any movement. John practically melted into the tree, disappearing as he had been taught to do from the age of six. Waiting, they slowly came by and swooped around for another check. Apparently satisfied, they swept off in another direction. Once the Spartan could no longer hear the Banshee's, he crouched, creeping forward. The tree's started to thin out as he got closer to the camp. The ground sank into a crater, and the encampment sat at the bottom, smoke wafting into the air. A solitary Covie Corvette sat about four hundred meters above the ground, crates, and troops floating in and out of the ship via the gravity lift.

Small structures rose out of the ground, providing a resting place for elites. Smaller structures were clustered around each other, grunts stepping in and out. Methane leaked out, giving the air around it a generally greenish blue tint. A pavilion stood at the end of it all, elites crowded around. The sun glinted off their golden armor, giving them a godly glow. Heading down the hill, he paused on the edge of the camp, watching the enemies patrol patterns. Thirty minutes was spent in the shadows, reassuring that this would go off without a hitch. An elite patrol interrupted his thoughts, passing literally inches from the Chief. Staying frozen, the hairs stood on his neck as the elite looked his way. He squinted, searching the shadows.. then moved on, not seeing anything worth his time. The Chief let out his breath, dashing behind another pod-like structure, his armor blending in despite its purple color. Slowly making his way through the camp and towards the grunts housing, he stayed in the shadows, not wanting to cause his buddies any problems.

Despite his armor and his hulking size, he was silent as a mouse, leaving only foot prints in his wake. Suddenly, a horn sounded, and grunts rushed out of the pods in front of him. Not only them, but elites stepped out of shelter and jackals on patrol all dropped what they were doing, heading instead for the pavilion.

A sly grin spread across Johns face. '_Even better,'_ he thought. Now he had all the time in the world. Reaching into his supply pouch, he pulled out a spool of wire. Taking out a small nail, he tied the string around it and stuck it into the ground. Running the string across the threshold of the entrance, he tied it to another nail sticking out of the ground, effectivly making a trip wire. Then, cutting three separate strings, he tied one end of each onto the main line, leaving the other tied to three frag grenades.

Finished, the Chief hastily made his way back through the camp and into the forest. Looking back one last time, he saw that his little day trip had gone unnoticed. And now, he placed the bait. Firing his DMR, he alerted everyone to the presence of an intruder in the camp. The group disbanded each heading for their housing for weapons. Turning, he strolled into the forest. _'Once those grunts walk into their pods, the frag-'. _Interrupted, an explosion echoed through the forest, causing utter chaos in the camp. Smiling smugly, the Chief had secured a few more days of preparation. Continuing on back to the Marines, he was in for some good old fashioned shut-eye. Following a path that was familiar to him, he was back to the camp in no time.

But the Chief stopped at the tree line. Because the dead bodies littered the ground, and no put had been dug. The glare of the aliens equipment still filled the clearing. But what worried him the most was the fact that not a single Marine remained in the clearing. Gone, without a trace.


	6. Apologies

**I'm sorry everyone for how long it is taking this next chapter. It should be out soon. You see I am not writing this story my friend is. He didn't feel like creating an account, so he used mine. Please don't go and give me a bad review for a late chapter because that is not me. I wrote this to get my story straight. Again I am truly sorry if you are reading this story and want chapters faster. My friend is the master of procrastination and hasn't been writing that much. I will try to get him to post some chapters quick but I cannot promise anything. Just wanting to get my story straight okay. Again I am sorry for his laziness**


	7. Chapter 7

**Authors Note- Here is my fifth chapter. Yeah, I know, it took seven thousand years to write. But like I've said, I'm amazing at procrastinating. I'm sorry to all my peeps that actually read and enjoy my story. Anyways, I'd just like to bring up something... **

**SCHOOL! Oh god it's coming way too quickly. It's gonna be my first year of highschool, so sorry if my chapters take a while to get written. God knows I hate school. But enough of this chatter, so, without further ado, Enjoy!**

**P.S. Review :D!**

The Chief crept into the clearing, his gaze sweeping across it's length. Nothing moved, save for the hypnotic swaying of the grass. The sun stood proudly in the sky, its artificial rays casting long shadows. Insects happily buzzed around flowers, going about their daily lives. Yet out of everything that could be wrong here, it just had to be the marines didn't it. _'Typical..' _John thought, stepping out into the field. Starting in the center and slowly spiraling outwards, he checked the ground and the tall grasses for bodies, coming up empty handed. Slowly spreading out into the woods, he barely noticed the large black lump until he stumbled on it.

Reaching down and picking it up, it turned out to be an ODST helmet. The white line running down the center was faded, and a thin crack spread through the visor. Plasma burns darkened the side, the telltale sign of an engagement with the Covies. Inspecting the ground around his feet, he could just make out small, birdlike tracks leading away and deeper into the darkness of the trees. _'Jackals, huh? I can handle those.'_ Slowly creeping forward, the Spartan started slowly following the tracks, making less noise than the swaying trees.

By now the sun was setting, gold and orange light shining through the treetops, casting long shadows. The forest stood quiet, its inhabitants settling down for a warm night. He had no worry if losing the tracks. The MJOLNIR armor was a wonder, doing much more than just protect the Chief. It made a neural link with him, and the moment the Chief thought about those tracks, the armor analyzed the pattern, saving it. Whenever it made out the same pattern and The Chief needed to find it, they were automatically marked with a waypoint on his visor. Nor was his night vision completely necessary, his eyes more accurate than a normal humans, his pupils adjusting faster.

Slowly following the tracks, the hours passed, casting him in complete darkness. His night vision flickered on, allowing him to scan his surroundings. Not a single Covenant in sight. It was starting to bother him. Jackals were frail creatures. They couldn't have carried _fourteen_ marines very far. Finally, a small light came into existence, peering through the trees and plants. Stopping, he activated the zoom on his visor. His vision blurred for a second, then everything came into focus. A small fire flickered, jackals lingering around its warmth. Behind the fire lay three marines, hog tied. Looking around, everything else was hidden from sight by the thick trunks.

Stepping over a fallen tree, John slowly crept towards the fire, using the darkness as cover. Raising his DMR, he brought the scope to his eye, aligning the sight with the nearest Jackals head. A loud crack rung out, the gun kicking against the Chiefs shoulder. The Jackal dropped , his weapon clattering against the ground. The other alien turned around, having enough time to see the body before a 7.62 mm round tore his brain apart. Stepping into the light of the camp fire, the marines eyes lit up, there exclamations muffled from the cloth in their mouths.

Kneeling down, John pulled the gag out of their mouths.

"Do you know where the rest of your squad is?" He asked, eyebrows raised behind his visor.

"No mate. All I know is they just took 'em further in."

"Probably have a bigger camp," he mused to himself, quickly untying the marines.

"Grab weapons. We're going to get the rest of your squad." The marines muttered a silent Ooh-Rah, gathering whatever supplies they could. It was times like this when he wish he had support. _'Even a simple topographic map would help. Cortana could just-' _John stopped himself, shaking his head to clear his darkening thoughts.

Once the trio was properly equipped, and the Spartan was confident they could handle themselves in a firefight, they headed out into the woods. The trek took considerably longer than it should've, due to the marines inevitable stumbling. Just as the Chief was about to lose his patience, he held his hand up, motioning for the marines to stop. All movement ceased, casting the three in complete silence. Nothing ahead of the trio moved, but The Chief persisted, and finally he was rewarded. He just barely made out the heavy breathing of a grunt nearby. It's breathing was slow and calm, the poor bastard probably asleep. Creeping forward, his suspicions were confirmed when a hunched over grunt caught his eye. Nice and steady, he paced his footsteps until he was a few inches behind the creature. Staining his knife with its blood, the Master Chief signaled for the marines to follow.

The encampment was easily found from there, its lights illuminating the outer edges of the forest. It was the same idea as the other camp, but roughly three or four times larger. This time, three Covenant cruisers hung in the air, the quiet hum of their gravity lifts filling John's ears. At least a few thousand troops milled about outside, chattering. A closer look revealed that most carried no weapons. He guessed that most, if not all, of the remaining marines were being kept in the center of the camp, posing a problem. Somehow, they were going to have to sneak past hundreds of Covie's, free eleven marines, then sneak back out. The Chief only grimaced when the marines voiced his thoughts.

"Well, 'ave you got a plan or something?" one of them asked, stepping forward. "I mean, this isn't exactly going to be a walk in the park or something. Do you even think we can pull it off?"

Staring off, John's mind raced for a solution. Suddenly, it came to him. A stupidly dangerous plan that might actually succeed.

"Alright, so this is how it's going to happen," The Chief said, turning to face his compatriots.

**Yes yes. Wickedly short chapter. I plan to counteract this with a super long chapter. I promise. Kinda been caught up in school. Just started freshman year, so it's quite a lot to take in. Sorry about the horrifically long wait. Anyway, I'm gonna start writing my next chapter now, get a head start and all c:. Any concerns or questions, just email me at doctorwhowoohoo . Or leave a review. Peace!**


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